


Settling

by ginger_mosaic



Series: The Guinea Pig 'Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Coming Out, Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Pining, Sam Ships It, Sam still misses Jess, also Dean and Cas are grossly in love, irresponsible Vonnegut references, soul mates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 02:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginger_mosaic/pseuds/ginger_mosaic
Summary: All Sam wants for Christmas is for his brother to be happy. He wants nothing else for himself. Really.





	Settling

**Author's Note:**

> I love Sam. A lot. True, I identify with Dean more, but I love Sam so much. It’s hard to write him, though. Let me know how I did.

 

Sam has been drifting for a while. Actually, he can’t remember the last time he _didn’t_ feel like he was drifting. Maybe with Jess, way back when. And isn’t that just sad? Over a decade later, sometimes he still dreams about her, still walks in a daze and reaches out for her. Ever since he learned that his parents were soulmates—or destined by the heavens to be together anyway—he’s wondered. Was Jessica his? If he ever finally makes it to heaven, will she be there?

It’s been so long that he’s pretty sure he doesn’t miss _her_ , just the idea of her. But then he thinks of the way John reacted to and never recovered from Mary’s death. How Claire’s mother couldn’t give up her search for answers about Jimmy’s fate even when it seemed hopeless. How every relationship he’s had since Jess has been… empty, somehow.

By the time he was with Amelia, he thought he’d gotten over it, but their relationship still felt hollow. It probably had to do with the fact that they were both in mourning and just leaning on each other, but Sam wonders if he’s even capable of loving someone else the way he loved Jess.

God, that sounds so stupid. It just gets so hard to open your heart to someone else when everyone keeps _dying_.

So he’d sort of, maybe, given up on it. He’d thrown himself into work, into trying to do better, into—after all these years—finally being the brother Dean deserves. Dean sacrificed so much for him and it was Sam’s turn.

Honestly, he likes his life. He hadn’t been lying to Dean about that. He used to resent it, but over the years, he’s found that he likes the purpose it gives him. He’s not going to deny himself the pleasure he gets from hunting, from helping people.

Saving people, hunting things—the family business.

He just wishes it wasn’t so _lonely_.

“Move it, Sammy! We’re burning daylight!”

 _It’s Sam_ , he thinks automatically, not without affection. Dean’s a jerk brother, but he’s Sam’s jerk brother.

With a sigh, he shoulders his duffle and heads out to the war room, where Dean is tossing the keys in the air impatiently. Despite his frown, something about the way Dean holds himself tells Sam that he’s pleased. It could be because they’re heading out for Jody’s for Christmas, but Sam has spent enough time with Dean to know his moods.

“For someone who had marathon sex last night, you sure are grouchy this morning,” says Sam.

Dean scowls, but the effect is diminished by the pink flush on his face. “Sh-shut up,” he says, so, nailed it. Apparently he’s not bothering to deny it anymore, which is progress. Sam is happy for them, even if Dean is still cagey about it.

He grins. “So you did?”

Dean rolls his eyes and starts up the stairs. “We’re gonna be sleeping in Jody’s living room for the next week. Might as well get some action before I have to be celibate.”

“Is that why you’re walking funny?”

It’s purely an annoying little brother move, and it works. Dean misses a step and swears. Sam had been kidding, and wow, TMI, but he guesses he can’t complain because he _did_ bring it up. It’s his own damn fault, really, that he knows way too much about his brother’s sex life. He just can’t resist a good ribbing, especially when it turns Dean’s generally gruff, hyper-masculine posturing into a fumbling mess. Sometimes he just needs to be knocked down a peg, is all. It’s Sam’s duty as a younger brother to do it.

“Dude,” says Sam, laughing, and Dean stomps the rest of the way up the stairs and out of the bunker. Sam follows him, grinning, and locks up after them. When he gets to the car, Cas and Claire are already settled in the back seat, Jean Luc’s travel cage between them.

“So Dean’s letting you in the back, huh, Cas?” says Sam, climbing into the front passenger’s seat.

“Shut the fuck up, Sam,” Dean snaps, starting the car. Cas just squints at Sam in confusion.

“It’s… not a new development,” says Cas, frowning. “I often sit in the back.”

Sam laughs out loud. Dean throws a cassette at him.

“I don’t even wanna know,” says Claire, staring at her phone and texting rapidly.

 

* * *

 

“Well, who’s this cutie?”

“Which one?” asks Jody, and Donna laughs. Cas stands in the doorway to Jody’s kitchen, holding Jean Luc and tilting his head in confusion.

“We’ve met before,” he says, “so surely Donna was referring to Jean Luc.”

Jody smiles indulgently. “Sure, Castiel, but you’re a cutie, too. Isn’t that right, Dean?”

Dean just grunts into his coffee, and Donna pushes away from the counter she’s leaning on to greet the guinea pig in Cas’s arms. She coos over him until Cas offers to let her hold him. Jean Luc is a pretty well-behaved guinea pig, though Dean complains that he specifically targets his things to chew on.

“Where are Claire and Alex?” asks Jody.

Before Cas can answer her, the two girls in question walk into the kitchen.

“We’re going out,” says Alex, reaching past Jody for a set of keys in the bowl.

“Um, where?” asks Jody, raising an eyebrow.

“Mall,” says Claire shortly. She goes to Donna to scratch the guinea pig’s head. “Be good for everyone, Jean Luc.”

“Be back by five!” Jody calls after them as the girls sweep out just as quickly as they came in.

“’Kay!” Alex calls back, and then the front door bangs shut and moments later, Jody’s truck starts.

“Yeah,” says Dean, “you’re taking her back.”

“Nice try, Winchester,” says Jody, swatting the back of his head as she passes him to get more coffee. “Sounds like you guys are having a good time together. Not to mention Cas would miss the guinea pig.”

“I would miss Claire, too,” says Cas, petting Jean Luc. Dean hides a scowl behind another sip of coffee. Sam is beginning to think Dean is jealous. “And I think she’s made friends.”

Jody’s eyebrows rise. “Really?”

“She’s mentioned a few other kids,” says Sam, “and sometimes she texts us to say she’s staying late.”

Jody smiles brightly. “That’s fantastic! I’ll admit I was a little worried, but that—that’s great.”

“Yeah,” says Dean. “Guess we didn’t fuck her up too bad after all.”

“Alex went through a lot, too, you know,” she points out. “And now she’s integrated back into civilian life and has a boyfriend and everything.”

“Sure, boyfriends solve everything,” says Dean, rolling his eyes.

“Are you speaking from experience?” Donna teases, grinning.

Dean flushes, and Cas bites back a smile and exchanges a glance with Sam. Sometimes it’s just too easy, but Dean is sure to get enough torment from Jody and Donna for being so grossly in love, so Sam is going to lay off this week. In addition to a bottle of gun oil and a new Swiss army knife, Sam is going to give Dean the gift of being an awesome, supportive brother this Christmas. In exchange, Cas is going to share amused glances with him. Because even Cas agrees that it’s kind of funny how flustered he gets.

Still, Cas comes to his rescue. “I have very little experience with boyfriends,” he says, taking Jean Luc back from Donna, “but I imagine it’s rewarding to have someone to share your life with. Here,” he adds, handing Jean Luc off to Dean.

“You fuckin’ sap,” says Dean, struggling to hold the guinea pig in one hand and his coffee in another. He finally lowers Jean Luc onto his lap and even scratches his head. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You could take him to the store to pick up some supplies,” says Jody, turning to yank a piece of notebook paper out from under a novelty police badge magnet on the fridge. “I remember how you boys eat, and I didn’t quite pick up enough food.”

“Nah,” says Dean, but he finishes his coffee and stands, taking Jean Luc with him. “He’ll just keep staring at the cereal aisle and ask me why there are so many.”

“I don’t understand why you would need more than one corn-based breakfast food,” says Cas. “It would be more efficient to—”

“See?” says Dean, raising an eyebrow at Jody. She laughs and trades him the list for the guinea pig. “I’m gonna pick up stuff for enchiladas while I’m at it,” he says, glancing at Jody’s list. “That okay?”

“Sure. Be back by five,” she adds with a wink. Dean rolls his eyes and leaves, and Cas follows him out.

“I’m serious, Dean,” says Cas, though Sam suspects he’s just messing with Dean now. “Why not just—”

“Who the hell eats corn for breakfast, Cas?”

“People in the south, I believe, but that’s not what I’m talking about—”

Their voices cut off when the front door closes, and Donna and Jody burst into laughter. Sam smiles and shakes his head. His brother’s dumb love is gross.

“Oh brother,” says Jody, wiping her eyes with one hand and holding Jean Luc close with the other. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.” Jean Luc squeaks and squirms, so she goes to the living room, ostensibly to put him back in his mini-pen that Claire set up in the corner because when she comes back, she’s empty-handed. “Are they always like that?”

Sam smirks. “They’ve got a friggin’ duprass.”

Jody snorts. “No kidding.” She takes a seat at the table with him. “What about you, Sam? What’s going on with you?”

Sam shrugs and wraps his hands around his mug. “Nothing right now,” he says. “We have a case on the backburner, but we’re kinda stuck.”

“What is it?” asks Donna, taking a seat, too.

Sam wrinkles his nose. Probably the less they know about it, the better, but they really don’t have anything to go on. They only have what Death said and the fact that the Book of the Damned has something to do with it, and Rowena is still on the lam. “I don’t even know how to explain it,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He doesn’t really _want_ to explain it either; that would require telling them about the Mark of Cain and Dean’s stint as a demon, which he’s not too keen on bringing up _ever_. “Which is why it’s on the backburner. At least temporarily. But if you hear anything about the Darkness, let us know.”

“The Darkness?” says Jody dubiously. “Sounds like some lame band name.”

“For all we know, it could be,” Sam mutters with a huff. It’s incredibly frustrating that there’s _nothing_ in any of the lore books. All the information they had on the Mark of Cain was about Cain himself, demons, demon armies, Knights of Hell… and a connection to Lucifer, which Sam is trying not to dwell on. He _really_ hopes this doesn’t all lead back to him.

“Well, we’ll let you know if we hear anything,” says Jody, and Donna nods. “But I meant to ask about your life. Anything new going on?”

He shrugs again. The job _is_ his life. That’s just how it is. How it has been. He’s tired of fighting it.

“I’ve been helping Claire with her college apps,” he says.

“Yeah?” Jody leans back. “How’s that going?”

“She’d probably be looking for a hunter’s college, if there was one.”

Jody chuckles. “That’s probably what the Men of Letters were supposed to be in the first place.”

Sam stares at her.

“What?” she asks.

“Nothing,” he says. “I’ve just never thought of it that way before.”

Jody grins. “Well, congratulations, Professor.”

Sam laughs. Is that why Claire moved in with them? To get hunter training? They _are_ all training her now. Cas is teaching her swordplay and some hand-to-hand combat, and she convinced Dean to take her down to the shooting range every once in a while. She helps Sam with research and sometimes they throw knives together, and before hunts, they all sit down to pack salt rounds and go over strategy.

It makes sense, too. The Men of Letters _were_ like collegiate hunters… maybe especially in that they had that sort of academic elitism that pissed off the average hunter. Despite that, Sam had _liked_ college, and he’s definitely enjoyed digging into the Men of Letters records. He just also enjoys the practical work of helping people, which is also why he never felt like he fit in when he was at Stanford. He had been on track for a practical internship when Dean had rolled into town. The call to action was definitely part of the reason he dropped out.

You know, along with Jess’s death, a desire for vengeance, and general grief. He lost everything the night Jess died, including any hope that he could escape the hunter’s life. And he resented it for a while, but now he understands that it’s just part of him. And that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It could even lead to something good. Maybe it even has, and he doesn’t know it yet.

 

* * *

 

Sam will never get used to seeing his brother in love.

Sure, it’s annoying sometimes, like when Dean and Cas do their staring thing and forget anyone else is in the room, or when they decide to make out just wherever and Sam walks in on them, or like that one time he caught them having sex in the Impala. But for the most part, Sam is just so happy that Dean is happy. His brother will get that stupid, sappy grin on his face that Charlie dubbed his “Dean ‘Heart-Eyes’ Winchester face,” and Sam won’t be able to stop the warm, bubbly feeling that rises in his chest. Sometimes he wants to burst into tears and throw his arms around them both and blubber about how proud he is.

Because, _fuck_ , for once in his miserable life, Dean is happy.

It took a while for him to get there. After Sam found out they were sleeping together (from _Hannah_ , of all people), it still took Dean a week to talk to him about it. Granted, they were all dealing with the fallout of Cas giving up his Grace, but still.

Sam finally caught Dean while he was making dinner one night. Cas was in the library, researching for a case that Dean probably wouldn’t let him go on, so Sam sat down at the small table in the kitchen with a cup of tea and tried to think of the best way to approach this.

He decided there wasn’t a best way and ended up with this: “Were you _ever_ going to tell me?”

Dean froze, and Sam knew he thought he was being ambushed, trapped while making dinner. He was probably going to deflect, but then he surprised Sam and only sighed.

“This isn’t about you, Sam,” said Dean.

Sam stared at his back, a little hurt. Seriously? That wasn’t—That wasn’t even _close_ to why he was doing this. He just wanted Dean to be happy. And he wanted Dean to be _happy_ about being happy.

“Of course it’s not, Dean. Jesus,” said Sam, shaking his head. “I just—You don’t think I’d want to _know_ that you’re in a relationship?” Dean stiffened further but didn’t protest the label, so okay. “Why wouldn’t you tell me something like this?”

“It’s none of your goddamn business maybe, ever think of that?” snapped Dean, firmly facing the stovetop.

“He’s my best friend, too,” said Sam. “And you were both hiding this from me, even though we promised there would be no more secrets.” Dean didn’t say anything, still resolutely over-stirring the stew he was making, so Sam kept going. They _needed_ to have this conversation. Sam wasn’t going to let Dean run away from this anymore, whatever _this_ was. He cared about him too much for that. “I mean, how did Cas feel about that?”

“He was fine with it,” said Dean, through clenched teeth.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Really?” When Dean said nothing more, that answered his question. “Is it the guy thing? Because I don’t care about that. You know that, right? I mean, I’ve known you’re attracted to men for _years_ —”

Dean flinched violently, sending the spoon he was holding flying across the room. It smacked into the wall and dropped to the floor, leaving a spatter of brown stew behind.

“Wh-What?” said Dean, finally turning around, eyes wide and face flushed. “No I—What?”

Sam snorted. “Dude. I was pretty sure even _before_ your siren was a man.”

Dean scowled. “That has nothing to do—That wasn’t—He got to you, too,” he spat. “Unless there’s something you wanna tell me, Sammy?” he added, falsely sweet.

Sam met his eyes straight on. “No,” he said. “Is there something _you_ want to tell _me_?”

Dean sneered at him and scoffed, and then he turned away to tear a paper towel violently from its roll. He wet it in the sink and then went to retrieve the spoon. When he was done wiping down the wall and floor, he didn’t get up, still crouching down. He didn’t say anything for a long time, but this time Sam waited.

“I… like guys,” said Dean at last, staring at the floor, gripping the spoon tightly in his fist. “Too. I like guys, too.”

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

Dean stood up and headed toward the sink to rinse the spoon.

“So,” said Sam, drawing out the sound to prompt an elaboration. When none came, he asked, “You’re bisexual, then?”

“Jesus, Sam, can you not?” Dean snapped, throwing the spoon down into the sink and turning to glare at him. “Can you just—Can we just not? Fucking Christ.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Okay, so we won’t put a label on it. That’s fine.”

“ _That’s fine_ ,” Dean mocked. “Jesus.” He turned back around, his movements at the sink rough and agitated.

“You… You _know_ it’s fine, right?” said Sam tentatively. “You know it’s okay, right?”

“Yes, Sam, I fucking know it’s fucking okay,” Dean said through his teeth.

“Okay,” said Sam, a little sheepish. “Sorry,” he added after a pause.

Dean scoffed and shoved the clean spoon back into the stew, but then he turned the burner down and went to the fridge. While he was rummaging around, Sam just watched him. He had known for a long time, but he’d never seen Dean act on any feelings toward men. He wondered if Dean ever had. How long and how deeply had he repressed this stuff?

“So,” Sam started, and Dean turned away from the refrigerator, rolling his eyes.

“You’re not done yet?” he said, throwing a loaf of artisan bread onto the counter.

“I’m just trying to—” He sighed and decided to go for it. “Is Cas the first?”

“Dude. You’ve walked in on me, multiple times—”

Now it was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Don’t be thick. I meant the first _guy_.”

Dean stared at him, his expression unfathomable and closed. “What are you doing?” he demanded. “You really want all the gory fucking details? Seriously? What is this?”

“I’m just—I’m trying to figure out—It’s serious with Cas, right?”

Because that was the thing. Dean was stubborn and self-destructive and didn’t believe he deserved to be happy, and if Sam had to push him into confronting the fact that it _was_ serious and it had been serious for _years_ —because for God’s sake, the sexual tension has been _ridiculous_ —then so be it.

He was going to make sure Dean didn’t fuck this up. They’d come too far and been through too much, and it was Sam’s turn to take care of his brother. He just wanted Dean to be happy. He’d do anything to make that happen. Even if that meant having painfully awkward conversations in which he pulls Dean’s feelings out of him to make him admit them instead of just repressing them. Goddamnit, his brother was going to be happy whether he liked it or not.

Dean, of course, snorted again and turned to put the bread in the oven to warm. “Gee, Sammy, I don’t know. The guy gave up his Grace so he could be with me. What the hell do you think?”

“So it’s serious for him,” said Sam. “Is it serious for you?”

Dean closed the oven door and then put his hands flat on the counter above it. After a long pause, he sighed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I think—I think this is it. He’s it. For me.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Good.” Thank God. “I’m happy for you. Really.” Dean turned around to raise his eyebrows. “I’m serious, Dean,” said Sam. “You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through—”

Dean laughed humorlessly. “After everything I’ve _done_ —Sam, I tried to kill you.”

Sam shrugged. “And I didn’t search for you when you were in Purgatory.”

Dean scowled. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Sam. “You deserve to be happy.” He paused, and Dean said nothing and fiddled with the cutting board on the island counter between them. “Does he make you happy?”

Dean’s eyes flicked up and away again. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

Sam smiled. “Then that’s all that matters.” Dean grunted and Sam couldn’t help smiling wider. “I’m happy for you guys. Seriously. Congratulations.”

Dean’s upper lip curled briefly, but then he swallowed and nodded. He turned back to the stove, his stirring slow and distracted. It took him a little while longer to speak again. “Thanks, Sammy,” he muttered at last, tired but sincere.

“You should tell Charlie,” Sam told him. “You know. When you’re ready.”

“Yeah,” Dean grunted.

“I still can’t believe I had to find out from _Hannah_.”

“Look,” said Dean, rubbing his hand over his face. “This—It’s still new, okay? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t… I’m still trying to work it out, okay?”

“Okay,” said Sam. “I get it.”

“I was gonna tell you eventually,” said Dean, still avoiding his eyes. “I just wasn’t sure… I didn’t know how.”

Until now, after Cas relinquished his Grace and pretty much proved how serious _his_ feelings were. Maybe this was the only way it ever could have come out. Sam couldn’t hold it against him.

“With words, Dean,” said Sam, because it was time to lighten this conversation up a bit.

“Shut up.”

Sam grinned. “Call Charlie.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved a hand dismissively and turned back to the oven. “Tell you what: I’ll call Charlie, you go get Cas. It’s dinner time.”

Sam nodded and pushed himself up from the table. “Can do.”

Of course, finding Cas had always been difficult, so when Sam got to the library, he wasn’t there. He checked the stacks and some of the storage rooms, and then the bedrooms and the bathroom and the room Dean had turned into a den, but Cas was nowhere to be found. Finally, Sam gave up and headed back to the kitchen.

“Okay, I can’t find him. Do you think he went outside—” But he stopped, because there Cas was. Sam walked in just in time to see them holding each other. Dean was leaning on him, his head bowed onto Cas’s chest, his arms curled up under Cas’s to grip his shoulders. Cas’s arms were loosely wrapped around Dean’s shoulders, one hand on his head. It looked intimate and natural, and Sam felt ready to burst. Goddamn. They were so in love. Goddamn.

Unfortunately, his entrance disturbed the moment. Dean pulled away, turning quickly and running his hand over his mouth. Cas smiled over his shoulder at Sam.

“I’m here,” said Cas.

Sam breathed out a laugh and smiled back. “Good, ‘cause it’s dinner time. How’s the research going?”

Charlie showed up the next day, and Dean stalled until dinner, when he blurted out, “I like guys, too, and Cas and me are together now.” Charlie blinked at him and then reached over to pat his arm, smiling.

“I know,” she said. Then: “Okay, except I wasn’t sure about the Cas thing. Congratulations! How long?”

Since then, Dean had slowly… well, _come out_. They eventually called Jody and told Claire, and little by little, they were more open about it and showing affection in front of other people. Almost to the point that the PDA was irritating rather than endearing, which was also the point that Sam decided Dean was comfortable enough that Sam could tease him.

The moment he walked in on them having sex outside of the confines of their damn bedroom, everything was fair fucking game.

 

* * *

 

Still, Sam promised, so when he wakes up on Christmas Day to find Dean and Cas loosely wrapped around each other on the pull-out couch in Jody’s cabin, he doesn’t say a thing.

For the last few days, they’ve slept on the pull-out without even touching, as far as Sam’s been able to tell from his nearby position on the cot Jody set up for him in the living room. Claire is in with Alex, and when Charlie came up for a few days before heading out to spend Christmas with her new girlfriend, Alice, she shared with Jody. Donna had left to spend the holiday with her family in Minnesota, but they still had a full house.

Aside from when they’ve fallen asleep watching a movie or when Sam’s caught them napping on the couch or in the back seat of the Impala on long trips, Sam has no idea what their usual sleeping arrangements are. He wouldn’t put it past either of them to be cuddlers, and this seems to be proof enough. Cas’s head is tucked under Dean’s chin, and they both have one arm thrown loosely over each other. That this is the first time they’ve been so close in three nights at Jody’s makes Sam think they’ve been holding back and they got just drunk enough last night to loosen the fuck up. Seriously, no one cares.

It’s just the opposite: Everyone is _thrilled_ to see them so happy.

Case in point: Sam has just sat down with coffee when Jody walks out of her room, does a double-take, and then looks at Sam and mouths, _Oh my God. That’s adorable_.

Sam chuckles, and Jody tiptoes across the living room to the kitchen.

“How long has _that_ been going on?” Jody whispers, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Like six months?” says Sam.

Jody breathes out a laugh and smiles at him. “Merry Christmas, Sam.”

He smiles back. “Merry Christmas.”

“I’m really glad you guys came up,” she says, sipping her coffee. “It’s nice to see Claire is doing well, too. Alex missed her.”

“Claire made it sound like they didn’t get along,” says Sam. “But I think she missed Alex, too.”

Jody grimaces. “I think they clashed sometimes on their approaches to the, uh, supernatural. Other than that, I thought they were fine.” She pauses and wraps her fingers around her mug. “Did she… ever explain why she…?”

Sam shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Jody. She likes you. I think it’s just what you said. She wants to take a different approach. She’s got a _really_ strong sense of justice. I told you about what happened about a month back, right?”

Jody nods. “The bullying thing. I’m glad she stood up for herself, but I can’t approve of the physical violence.”

Sam shrugs. “She’s working on it. Channeling that into other things. She joined the drama club a few weeks ago.”

“That’s good,” says Jody, beaming. “I would demand to know why she hasn’t mentioned that yet, but she’s spent most of the last few days with Alex, so…”

Sam chuckles. “She likes you, Jody. I promise.”

“Who likes who?” asks Claire, emerging from the hall, still wearing her pajamas—a Beauty and the Beast shirt and flannel pants. Alex follows on her heels in a Sioux Falls PD sweater and nudges her as they pass through the living room. Claire turns and takes one glance at Dean and Cas on the couch before she wrinkles her nose. “Oh, barf,” she says, and Alex laughs.

“You like Jody,” says Sam, taking a sip of his coffee. Jody chokes a little, but Sam thinks Jody should know.

Luckily, Claire confirms that Jody is awesome in her book. “What?” She frowns and looks to Jody, tilting her head, and her high ponytail swings to the side. “Of course I like you.”

Jody just gapes, flustered. She throws a glare at Sam, pursing her lips.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, grinning.

Claire hesitates for a moment, and then she steps forward and hugs Jody. “Merry Christmas, Jody.”

Jody’s eyes widen in surprise, but she recovers after a moment and returns the hug. “Merry Christmas, Claire.”

Claire smiles, and Alex hands her a mug, and they both take seats at the kitchen table, which means all four of them are witness to when Dean stirs and turns over, officially making himself the little spoon. Claire huffs and pulls her phone from her sweatpants pocket, and then she snaps a photo.

“I thought it was barfy,” says Sam.

“It’s also blackmaily,” she says, stashing her phone again. “Plus, Charlie will be mad she missed it.”

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. When he next looks up from his coffee, the others have fallen silent and are looking out at the living room at the spectacle that is his brother in love. He tries not to make a big deal out of it, for the sake of Dean’s pride, but it’s still jarring sometimes to see him in such a stable, fulfilling relationship. Dean Winchester, Unattached Drifter of the One Night Stands, has settled down. It gives Sam so much hope it hurts sometimes.

He looks over, too, just in time to see Dean waking up. He blinks against the light coming from the kitchen and narrows his eyes once he notices them.

“What?” he demands gruffly.

“Nothing,” says Alex, innocently sipping her coffee.

Dean frowns and glances over his shoulder. Cas’s face is hidden somewhere behind Dean’s neck, and he has one arm thrown over Dean’s waist, his hand creeping up to rest over Dean’s heart. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” he says. “We’re friggin’ married.”

“Clearly,” says Jody.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Already did,” says Claire serenely.

Dean sneers at her and then lifts himself up onto an elbow and reaches back to shake Cas by his upper arm. “Wake up, Cas, it’s Christmas.”

Cas groans, and his fingers clench in Dean’s shirt.

“Come on, buddy, time to get up.”

Cas utters something guttural that is definitely not in English.

“Yeah, that was Enochian, Cas,” says Dean. “Didn’t understand that.”

Cas shifts and grumbles. “I refuse to wake early for an arbitrary human holiday. Yehoshua was born in _September_.”

“Who?” asks Dean, and Cas just growls again and buries his face somewhere behind Dean. “Come on, man, it’s not _that_ early.”

“What time is it?” comes Cas’s muffled reply.

Dean casts around for his phone, and Sam shakes his head. He knows Cas is unpleasant in the mornings, but seeing it in this context makes it a little more endearing. It still doesn’t make up for the morning drama he puts up with when he and Cas go on hunts together, though.

When Dean finally finds his phone and reads the time, he sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I’ll get you coffee,” he says, patting Cas’s arm consolingly as he extracts himself from the pull-out. Cas groans and turns away from the light, pulling the blankets over his head.

“Merry Christmas,” says Dean, pulling two mugs out of Jody’s cupboard, and he pulls the sugar out as well. Even Sam knows Cas’s coffee order now—black, two teaspoons of sugar—after months of dealing with his morning grumpiness. For an eternal being, Cas is _really_ intolerant of the natural cycle of day and night. Then again, he’s also ornery after he takes a nap, so maybe it’s just the novelty of needing sleep at all. Poor angel.

Eventually Dean coaxes Cas out of bed and into the kitchen with coffee and promises of breakfast, and then Dean and Jody fix up cinnamon waffles and this eggnog bread pudding Jody has been raving about. It feels strange and wonderful at the same time, just like all week has been, to sit together like this, like a family. Thanksgiving had still been a little uncomfortable, but something changed between then and now, with Claire acting a little more warmly toward them all. She and Alex tease Cas about his aversion to mornings, and before he can launch into a continuation of his drunken lecture about pagan holidays from last night, Jody pours him some more coffee. Alex tells them all what her boyfriend Henry got her for Christmas—a set of Radiohead records on vinyl—and Dean “Heart-Eyes” Winchester smiles smugly (because Jody had suggested they get her a record player) and plays footsie under the table with Cas. Sam smiles and doesn’t say anything.

It’s one of the best Christmases he’s ever had. Definitely in the top five.

 

* * *

 

They open presents after breakfast. Jean Luc weaves around the discarded wrapping paper and ribbon, avoiding Claire’s attempts to stick a bow on him. Cas didn’t fare as well; he has one red bow on his hair and a green one on his shoulder, stuck to the new blue and purple plaid shirt Claire got him. It came wrapped around the newest edition of the Guinness Book of World Records, which means Cas will be spouting world record facts at them for months. She and Alex pitched in to get Dean a box of the original Star Trek series and Sam a special edition set of the Harry Potter books.

“Oh my God, you fucking nerd,” says Dean. Sam pointedly looks at the Star Trek DVDs Dean is still holding; Dean pointedly ignores him.

When they’re done opening presents, Alex and Claire go to Alex’s room to test out her new record player, taking Jean Luc with them. While Jody and Dean prepare for dinner, Cas reads his new book on the folded-up couch, taking notes in the journal Sam got him. Sam flips through the illustrated _Sorcerer’s Stone_ book idly. He got a lot of gifts this year, and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. Cas had given him a beautiful handmade leather sheath for Ruby’s demon knife, and Dean had carved a wooden stake for him, etched with runes and complete with a leather grip. He’d smirked and said, “Now you can really be Sammy the Vampire Slayer.”

He hasn’t received this many gifts at once since Stanford.

Sam closes the book.

“Hey, Cas,” he says.

Cas turns, and Sam thinks about suggesting they go for a walk, thinks about asking him how he feels about this, how he’s adjusting, if he ever misses his family, where Jess is now and if Cas could find out, but instead he asks, “How’s the book?”

Cas narrows his eyes and tilts his head, like he knows that isn’t what Sam was going to ask, but then he just grimaces softly. “Good,” he says. “But why would someone want to grow their fingernails so long?”

Sam shrugs. “To break a world record.”

“Yes, but _why_?”

Sam laughs. “I dunno, man.”

“I think I much prefer the record for Largest Photo Album of Hugs.”

“Check out the Largest Ball of Paint,” Sam suggests.

“How do you make a ball of paint?” he asks, flipping to the glossary. Before he can find it, though, Dean comes back into the living room, spinning his keys on his finger.

“Come on, Cas, let’s go for a drive,” says Dean.

“To where?” asks Cas, closing his book and setting it aside.

Dean shrugs. “Nowhere. We’re gone with prep, so we have time to kill.”

Cas nods. “Okay.”

They pull on their jackets and boots, and Dean finally takes the bow off Cas’s head and tosses it in the pile of recyclable ribbons and giftbags. He resolutely doesn’t look at Sam, but Sam is not saying a damn thing.

Except when Dean is halfway out the door, Sam can’t help himself, and he says, “Use protection.” Dean flips him off and closes the door, and Sam snickers into his book.

Jody emerges a minute later, collapsing into an armchair across from Sam with a sigh.

“I always forget how much work it is to make these damn dinners,” she says. “Next time, I’m hiring a caterer.”

Sam gives her a sympathetic smile. “I would have helped if Dean would let me anywhere near a kitchen.”

Jody laughs. “He sure settled into domestic life well.”

Sam chuckles. “Sure. Domestic. As much as living in an underground bunker for a secret society of occult librarians can be.”

Jody grins. “Like you don’t love it.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m living the dream.”

She laughs again, and then considers him, smiling. “How _are_ you, Sam?”

He shrugs. “Fine.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

He shrugs again and looks down at his book. “It’s just… weird, you know? After everything… I mean, this should feel normal, you know? But it doesn’t. It’s never been our version of normal.”

Jody nods. “So you get introspective around the holidays, too, huh?”

Sam breathes out a short laugh.

“Things change,” says Jody. “You got used to living in the bunker. You’ll get used to this.”

That’s what scares him. How much he can get used to. And then how quickly that can change. He knows that his and Dean’s codependency is unraveling; he can feel it. It’s not exactly unwelcome, because God knows they’re done some terrible things to each other and other people in the name of it. But its end is revealing just how much they’ve been relying on each other, and now he’s left in the lurch.

“I’m a little envious, I think,” he admits.

“Honestly? Me, too,” says Jody, and when Sam looks up, she is staring at her hands forlornly. That’s right. Jody had a family before—a husband and a son—and she lost them, while he’s mourning something he’s never had. Jess was just his girlfriend. Sure, he had thought about marrying her, and he missed her like hell after she died, but it wasn’t the same.

“Our parents were soulmates,” he says, before he can think about it, but maybe Jody will understand. “It’s more complicated than that,” he adds hastily, “but like… Jimmy and Amelia. Claire’s parents. They share a heaven because their bond is so strong.”

“So soulmates are real?” asks Jody, her eyes wide.

“It’s complicated,” Sam repeats. “But, like, it’s that strong bond—I dunno. I’m envious of that.” He shrugs once more.

Jody considers him. “Well, it’s not like it’s too late.”

Sam looks down. “What if it is? I mean, I feel like I had that. Before. But she… What if I missed my chance?”

Jody says nothing for a while. It’s probably unfair to talk to Jody about this, but he doesn’t have anyone else to turn to. Charlie, maybe, but she’s in the honeymoon phase, and it’s awesome that the people he loves are happy, it is, but he can’t help feeling left behind. It’s been hard to let anyone in. Dean is lucky; no matter how many times he’s lost Cas, Cas has come back.

Jess, Madison… even Sarah and Amelia… They only come back in his dreams.

“Sam,” says Jody at last, “I don’t know anything about soulmates, but a bond like that… takes work, I think. So if you did lose someone like that, it’s not too late. You can form a strong bond again.” When he looks up, she’s smiling sadly at him. “You’ll find someone, Sam. And hell,” she adds, “even if you don’t, there are other relationships that are just as fulfilling as romantic ones. You know?”

Sam smiles back. “You mean being a mom?”

She grins. “Alex keeps me busy. And my friendships help stave off the loneliness. Though I have thought about dating again,” she admits.

Sam chuckles and sits back, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno,” he says. “Maybe I just miss her. And there’s no guarantee I’ll ever see her again.”

Jody shrugs. “There never is, really.”

That might be true. There is no guarantee that he and Jess could have formed a strong enough bond to become soulmates at all. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“Don’t worry, Sam, you’ll always have Jean Luc.”

Sam and Jody both turn to see Claire standing in the hall, holding the guinea pig. Sam manages a grin, a little embarrassed, and Claire steps into the living room.

“Hey, Claire,” says Jody. “Where’s Alex?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Henry called. Three’s a crowd.” She carries Jean Luc to his pen but only grabs the new hay chew toy Cas had gotten him before heading to Sam’s chair. “Here,” she offers, and Sam smiles and takes the guinea pig and the toy on his lap. Jean Luc wheeks and pushes the toy around a bit, and Claire sits on the arm on the couch.

“See?” she says. “He likes you.”

“Probably because I don’t snarl every time I see him,” says Sam.

“What _does_ Dean have against him anyway?” asks Jody, shaking her head.

“I think he’s still mad I didn’t name him after Kirk,” says Claire, smirking.

Sam chuckles and scratches Jean Luc’s head with two fingers. “Dean likes him just fine,” says Sam. “He just doesn’t want to admit it because he was so against getting him in the first place.”

“Plus he gets jealous when Cas is paying more attention to the guinea pig than to him,” says Claire, so Sam wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Jody snorts. “Those two are too cute.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “I guess you can say that because one of them doesn’t have your dad’s face.”

Jody looks at her sadly. “Claire…”

“No, it’s cool,” she says, dropping down onto the couch properly. “He’s, like, an uncle guy. That’s the cover story and all.”

But Jody is still watching her with something like regret, and Claire keeps her eyes on her hands, slumped on the couch, so Sam jumps to change the subject.

“So Alex said she’s probably going to see Henry in the afternoon,” he says. “You got any plans for today?”

Claire shrugs. “TV movies?”

“What about you, Sam?” asks Jody.

“I, uh,” he says, shifting Jean Luc and his toy onto the floor. “I was thinking about going to Bobby’s old place. Just… to visit. But now Dean’s taken off, so.”

Jody smiles gently. “That sounds nice. You could always take my car.”

Sam brightens. “The cruiser?”

She gives him a stern look, and he grins.

“I’ll get you the keys to the _truck_ ,” she says, pushing herself to her feet.

“Thanks, Jody,” he says, getting up, too. Jody goes to the kitchen to get the keys, and Sam goes to his duffle to pull out a warmer shirt for going outside.

“Can I…”

Sam looks up to find Claire watching him. She bites her lip, hesitating, and then continues.

“Can I come with you?” she asks.

Sam blinks and then smiles. “Sure. You ever been to Bobby’s?”

“No.”

“Then yeah, sure. Get a coat.”

She nods and then stands and gathers Jean Luc to put him safely in his pen, and then she disappears down the hall to Alex’s room to get her jacket.

 

* * *

 

Bobby’s place is only a little more rundown and overgrown than it was the last time Sam saw it. It breaks his heart a little. They should have taken better care of it, but it was too painful to even think about in the months after Bobby’s death, and then Dean disappeared after they took on Dick Roman, and Sam…

Well, Sam hadn’t been able to face _anything_.

He and Dean had stopped by occasionally since Dean got back from Purgatory, to pick up books that weren’t burnt beyond legibility and move them to the bunker, but on every visit, there was a silent agreement that they wouldn’t touch anything else. Or _couldn’t_. They had never talked about it enough for Sam to be sure. Maybe it’s both.

Sam pulls Jody’s truck in through the rusted gate, which he had to force open with a loud creak that spooked the birds out of the nearby trees while Claire watched from the truck cab. Weeds have grown over the gravel driveway, so he stops the truck short of the walk up to Bobby’s burned-out house. The place looks wild and haunted, but they know where Bobby is now, and he’s safe. It had helped, knowing that. But only a little.

“Wow,” says Claire, stepping out of the truck, but she doesn’t say anything else. She looks around, taking in the decrepit state of the house and the salvage yard. Sam can sense her disapproval. He knows she’s right. They should have taken better care of it. Of everyone. They’ve been so wrapped up in saving the world and in their codependency, they’d forgotten there were things in the world, and people, they needed to take care of. They are only just starting to fix that now.

“I’m just gonna take a minute inside,” Sam tells her. “Go ahead and take a look around, but be careful.”

“I’ll be okay,” she says, still looking out at the yard, and then she lets an angel blade drop from her sleeve and twirls it with a smirk. “I can take care of myself. I’ll look out for any teenagers using this place as a make-out point.”

Sam snorts. Jody had told them before they left that she drove by sometimes on patrol to scare off any trespassers.

“All right,” says Sam. “Just don’t go making out with them.”

“Screw you, Sam,” Claire calls after him as he makes his way up the steps to Bobby’s house. He chuckles and, shaking his head, opens the door.

 

* * *

 

Once, when Bobby took them deer hunting, he’d pulled Sam aside.

“Listen, Sam,” he’d said, “your daddy puts a lot of pressure on your brother, and I don’t mean to do the same thing to you, but I want you to promise me something.”

He’d been so serious, in a different way than he usually was, so Sam could only nod and say, “Okay, Uncle Bobby.”

“Dean does a good job looking out for you,” said Bobby. “So I’m askin’, when he needs it, you gotta be there for him. He’s got a rough time ahead of him, and he’s gonna need us. You understand?”

He hadn’t. Dean had seemed so strong back then, so indestructible. He was Sam’s big brother. He couldn’t imagine a time when Dean might need _Sam_ to look after _him_. Sure, sometimes he came back to the motel room injured, and Sam knew he cried sometimes, even though he tried to hide it, and Sam often patched him up with bandaids from the first aid kit and gave him the extra poptarts. Maybe that was what Bobby meant.

“Yeah, Uncle Bobby,” Sam said. “Of course I will.”

And then he hadn’t.

Dean came back from Hell rougher and somehow more fragile than before, but back then, Sam had been so lost in demon blood and the oncoming apocalypse that he’d failed Dean. Dean had taken care of him for so long, and for the last couple of years, Sam thought it was his turn. He kept trying to make up for all his mistakes and betrayals—he’d freed Lucifer, didn’t look for Dean when he disappeared, failed to complete the trials, and then Dean got the fucking Mark of Cain. He’d removed a support beam for Dean when he left for Stanford, and now he’s been trying to build it back up for years. And failing again and again.

And now Dean doesn’t need him anymore. They don’t need _each other_ anymore. And it’s freeing. It’s a relief.

It’s terribly lonely.

 

* * *

 

Bobby’s house is a burned-out shell. Sam steps carefully over the burned, rotten floorboards. He thinks they should have taken better care of this house—or at all. Maybe he’ll come out here between hunts and start. Bobby left it to them—or more specifically, Dean. Dean would probably do a better job of rebuilding it, but Sam would help. He would do his best.

Sam pulls the flask out of his jacket where he’d stowed it. It’s not Bobby’s old flask, but it’s as close as he could get, and it’s all about the symbolism anyway. Bobby isn’t _here_ , after all.

He picks his way through the house to the library. It’s largely empty of books, since Garth had collected the last of them. When he reaches where it used to be, Sam twists off the cap.

“I’m sorry it’s taken this long,” he says, “but I’m gonna do better now. We’re all gonna do better.”

Because now that Dean doesn’t need him anymore, he can focus on the job. They’ve been so blinded in pursuit of just keeping each other alive that some things have fallen by the wayside. But he doesn’t have to worry about Dean anymore. Now Dean has Cas—hell, they both have Cas, and Charlie, and Jody and Donna and Alex and Garth and a freaking _support network_ —and they aren’t alone anymore. They can do better now.

He’ll keep throwing himself into the work. That’s fine. He’ll find a way to deal with the Darkness without either of them sacrificing themselves. He’ll save more people than he gets killed.

After years of just taking care of Dean, it’s finally time to take care of everything else.

He’ll settle for that. Even if he never finds someone, that will be enough. That sense of purpose. The way it _should_ be.

Years ago now, he and Bobby had watched Dean drink himself to sleep, after Cas had vanished again. Dean had been pretending it wasn’t about _that_ , but Bobby and Sam had enough silent conversations over the years to know they both agreed it totally was.

“Someday those two’ll get their heads out of their asses,” Bobby had said, and it was the first time either of them acknowledged the unspoken _thing_ between Dean and Castiel.

Sam hadn’t felt as optimistic at the time. He’d snorted. “You wanna bet?”

Now, back in the remains of Bobby’s house, Sam remembers the look Bobby gave him and snorts again.

“You won that one, Bobby,” he says, and pours out the single-malt whiskey onto the floorboards. “But here’s another: I bet you we’ll do better by everyone.”

It’s more of a promise than a bet, and he knows Bobby wouldn’t have taken it. He had too much faith in them.

 

* * *

 

Claire is standing near Jody’s truck when he finally comes out. She looks up at the creak of the door and smiles tentatively.

“All right?” she asks.

Sam smiles back. “Yeah.” He leans on the truck next to her. “How about you? You doing okay?”

Claire shrugs. “It’s not my first Christmas without parents.”

Sam nods. “How’s it for a first Christmas with a new family?”

She wrinkles her nose and kicks at the gravel on the ground, shoving her hands in her pockets.

“’S okay, I guess,” she mumbles.

Sam chuckles and nods again. “Yeah, I get that.”

She half-smiles at him again and leans against the truck to look at the house.

“I’m thinking of fixing it up,” he says.

“Good idea,” she says. “It’s a dump.”

He nudges her with an elbow, and she smiles and looks down. They stand there for a while, just watching the house. He thinks, despite Claire’s reservations, she’s found a place with them. They’ve always taken in strays, always been strays. His family has grown, even if they’ve lost people along the way. It’s enough.

“Hey,” Claire says after a while, and Sam turns to her, but she’s still looking at the house. “What you said earlier. Don’t worry about it. You’ve… you’ve got us.”

Sam smiles at her. God, she reminds him of Dean sometimes.

“I know,” he says.

And it’ll be enough.

 

* * *

 

Then, in January, Sam meets Eileen Leahy.

**Author's Note:**

> There are several Easter Eggs in this fic. :) Can you spot them?


End file.
